


Red Light, Blue Light

by 35-leukothea (35_leukothea)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Stormpilot, one quarter portion of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:17:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5613658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/35_leukothea/pseuds/35-leukothea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being rescued from the Starkiller Base, Finn wakes up several days after the attack on the First Order in the Resistance infirmary, having been plagued with strange ailments and stranger dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Light, Blue Light

**Author's Note:**

> I loved writing this, it was a really nice break from thinking about complex plot and character development, which is what I've got going on in a long-term fic right now. Plus, I love Star Wars, and Finn and Poe, so it was just an all-around good time (well, maybe not for Finn). Anyway, enjoy my first piece of writing from 2016!  
> Love from Beth
> 
> Alternatively titled _Snowdoll_.

It was cold. It was so, so cold, the kind of cold you don’t come back from, where it seeps into your bones and burns you alive from the inside. The world was foggy, and it made him feel lost, like bits and pieces were missing from an important picture that he ought to recognize. His mind stumbled helplessly as it tried to connect what he was seeing to any sort of reality, but it seemed that reality just did not want to be known. All he could discern was his own confusion, and the constant, withering cold.

And then there was another.

It was a cloaked figure, donned in robes black as pitch, illuminated by a dim red light that flickered against the fog, like it was angry. This one seemed unaffected by the cold, even welcomed by it. They walked with purpose, like they knew where they were going, so he followed them.

Then, there was a third, this one clothed in mere rags and bathed in quiet blue. The glowing lights sent the darkness running as they bounced around inside the glassy dome of fog, and shadow after shadow flew by him, whirring in his ears like machines. The two figures faced each other, and the ground began to shake.

Lights flashed, shadows fled. He smelled something burning, with no way to tell what it was. Red and blue collided, and the fog laughed, goading the players on as it kept any one of them from winning the game. He ran, forcing his way through the cold and the dark to see, finally _see_  what was happening, but it was no use. The truth was unknowable, and any evidence of what had taken place here would soon be destroyed, lost to the abyss as the ground split open and the fog embraced them more tightly with each passing breath. He ran to the edge of the cliff, hoping for one last, fleeting glimpse of the two figures who fought beyond his reach. They were already dead, yet still, they battled.

Suddenly, the blue light vanished.

_Rey._

His eyes and mouth flew open, cool air instantly flooding his lungs and releasing him from the stale grip of sleep. Something was wrong—everything was wrong. He tried to cry out, but it felt like he’d swallowed a mouthful of sand. His icy blood rushed with adrenaline without knowing why, instilling in him almost a greater panic than he had felt just moments ago. What was this place? Which way was up? Which way was out? And what was that horrible _noise_? It was droning, dizzying, pounding the inside his head like it was determined to shatter his skull. But beyond that, faintly, there was something else.

“…down, calm down, you’ve barely just…”

Barely just what? The sound was getting clearer, but the world still spun. He felt something grab his wrists, hard. He wanted to scream.

“…wrong, buddy? Can you hear me? Can you see me?”

Maybe it was the fog still laughing at him, or the shadows, shrieking in fear.

“Finn? _Finn!_ We need a nurse over here!”

Oh, yes—Finn. That was him. His friend had given him that name. Come to think of it, he couldn’t even remember his old one—the noise had created a blockade around his memories. When he tried, all he could recall was darkness.

Darkness, and the angry red light.

 

* * *

 

The next time Finn awoke, it was instantaneous and natural, like blinking. He much preferred it this way.

The first thing he noticed was that the droning was gone, and everything seemed in balance again. His inner ears must’ve gone batshit or something. He was quite glad they were fixed.

The second thing he noticed was that he was, surprisingly, warm. And comfortable. He felt a pillow under his head, not too stiff and not too soft, and when he shifted slightly, he felt covers on top of him. One of them was definitely a blanket, but the other was something else. He couldn’t feel it, but it didn’t smell like a blanket—frankly, it smelled a little dirty. No, dirty was the wrong word. Worn, maybe, and on second thought, it smelled pretty familiar.

He considered trying to fall back asleep, but after a few more minutes, decided he wouldn’t be able to manage it. He opened his eyes with a little difficulty, squinting and blinking as his vision slid in and out of focus. There was a sound like a chair scraping the floor, then soft murmuring.

“Finn?” someone said kindly, a woman. “How are you feeling?”

Personally, Finn thought there was no easy answer to that sort of question, but he said, “Okay.”

“Are you sure you’re ready to get up?” the woman asked. She was probably a doctor or a nurse. “Take your time. You’ve been pretty badly hurt.”

“No, I want to.” He began to push himself up onto his elbows, and the doctor helped him sit up against his pillow.

“There,” she said. “Do you need anything? Are you warm enough?”

He swallowed, then winced. “Can I please have some water?”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

He heard the sound of her footsteps retreating, and after that, it was quiet. He rubbed at his eyes a little, still blinking, then looked around.

He was still at the Resistance base, from what he could tell, in the infirmary. His bed had curtains, but they were only drawn on one side. There was a chair on the other side, as well as a small table and some fancy-looking machines, for telling if he was going to die or not or something. There were different kinds of people and droids about, most of them medical personnel, but some of them wore other uniforms. He wondered vaguely how many people had been hurt in the attack on the First Order. How many had been killed.

 _Monsters_.

He hung his head, rubbing his eyes again as he pulled himself away from those thoughts. He supposed it was no use to mull over that now. He dropped his hands into his lap, then started slightly as they touched something of a material that was decidedly not from the blanket. His eyes still weren’t cooperating, though, and he couldn’t see exactly what it was. It was something cooler and smoother than fabric, like…leather?

“Hey there, snowdoll.”

Finn’s gaze darted upwards, to where someone he knew had dropped into the chair at his bedside. He was smiling like a kid and positively radiating happiness, an energy that made Finn feel a little bit more awake.

“We almost thought you were a goner,” Poe admitted, handing him a water canteen. “You gave me a bigger scare than that Starkiller.”

Finn frowned as he took the water, a hundred different questions popping into his mind at once, but all he managed to say was, “‘Snowdoll’?”

Poe’s smile broke into an easy, lopsided grin. “Forgive me. Would you prefer ‘human icicle’? Or perhaps ‘failed attempt to survive overnight on Hoth’?”

His brain was still too fuzzy to have made any sense of either of those alternatives. “No, I meant—what’s a snowdoll?”

Poe laughed. “Oh. It’s exactly what it sounds like. You roll up snow into little pieces and pour water over them so they freeze, and then you build a doll with it.”

Finn stared at him.

“It’s fun, I promise,” he assured him quickly. “One day I’ll show you.”

Finn just shook his head. “You know, considering my first experience with snow didn’t go so well, I think I’ll pass on tha...” He trailed off, frowning again as he searched his memories. He’d forgotten something.

“Finn?” Poe asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m...I just...” There was still something missing. Why couldn’t he think of it? It was still _there_ , he could feel it—he just couldn’t find it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the machines start flashing blue, probably in reaction to whatever chaos was going on in his brain right now.

Poe didn’t seem reassured at all; in fact, he sounded slightly panicked. “Hey, buddy, you don’t look so good, d’you want me to go get the doctor or—?”

_Rey._

He sat bolt upright, a stab of pain jolting his head, but he didn’t care. “Rey!” he gasped. “Where’s Rey? Is she here? Is she alright?”

“Whoa, whoa, take it easy!” Poe stood up, gently pushing Finn’s shoulders until he lay back down against his pillow. “Rey is fine, don’t worry about her.”

“Where is she? Can I see her?”

“ _Relax_ , Finn,” he implored. “She’s not here right now. She left two days ago on the _Falcon_  to go look for Luke Skywalker. Drink your water.”

Finn’s head was spinning, but this time he was certain it wasn’t because he was sick. He opened the canteen, which he’d completely forgotten about, and took a swig from it. “Luke Skywalker? But the map—”

“—was completed,” Poe finished. “R2-D2 woke up, and found the rest of it in his stored data.”

He nearly spat out his water in his rush to respond. “ _What_? But the odds of that have gotta be—some enormous number to one—”

“Oh, believe me,” Poe scoffed, “C-3PO had his circuitry in quite the twist about the odds of that.”

Finn downed the rest of the water. “What about Kylo Ren?” he asked. “Did he survive?”

Poe’s face darkened instantly. “I can only hope not, but I suppose there’s gotta be more than one way to survive the implosion of an artificial planet.” He sounded more bitter than Finn had ever heard him. “I’ve got a bad feeling we’ve only cut the head off the roach here.”

Finn didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. He leaned over and set the empty canteen on the bedside table, then jumped slightly as he heard the soft _whump_  of something falling to the ground.

“I got it,” Poe said immediately, bending down to pick up what had fallen—it was his Resistance fighter jacket. Or, rather, Finn’s Resistance fighter jacket. Was that what he had been feeling on top of his blanket?

“Why was I sleeping with that?” he asked.

Poe laughed awkwardly. “Funny story, really...well, actually, not funny at all, but...”

Finn narrowed his eyes. “Poe?”

He put his hands up defensively. “Hey, man, I had nothing to do with it! You, uh—you had some kind of a seizure a little while after Rey left, and after they got you to calm down, a, uh, nurse thought it might be a good idea to, um...yeah.”

Finn blinked at him. “Ingenious,” he remarked.

“Something like that,” Poe agreed, still sounding a little flustered, and abruptly gave Finn back the jacket.

“I had a seizure?”

“I don’t know what to call it. You were still pretty sick.”

For a few minutes, they were quiet. Finn listened to the sounds of the infirmary around them, the hushed bustle and hushed voices, wheels rolling, computers counting heartbeats till something told them to screech. He decided he didn’t like it much—it reminded him of before. Before the Resistance, before Han Solo, before Rey and Jakku. Before Poe.

Finn asked, “Did they really think I might die?”

Poe shifted in his seat, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m not a doctor, Finn. All I know is you were found lying face-down in the snow with some nasty burns that they still don’t know how to treat.”

“Well, I’m not dead.”

He smiled at that, and all of sudden, his charming confidence was back. “And neither am I. Funny how these things work out.”

Finn glanced down at the jacket in his lap. “A little scary, really,” he said quietly. “Suddenly I’ve left the First Order, and suddenly I’ve got friends, and suddenly they’re all about to die. How do you people live this way?”

“Hey, don’t say things like that,” Poe chided. “It’s not normally this melancholy. Normally we—we...”

“Make snowdolls?” Finn suggested.

“Exactly. That’s right. We make snowdolls.”

“Mr. Dameron?”

They both glanced to the foot of Finn’s bed, where the doctor from before had appeared from behind the drawn curtain.

“Yes, Doctor?” Poe asked, standing up.

“I understand your concern for your friend,” she said, “but he needs some rest right now.”

“Of course.”

To Finn, she added, “If you have any trouble getting back to sleep or need anything else, just let someone know.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She nodded at the both of them, then disappeared on the other side of the curtain.

“Well, I guess I’m being kicked out,” Poe said good-naturedly. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Thanks,” Finn said.

Poe smiled faintly, looking confused. “What for?”

“Not being dead.”

There was a split-second pause in which it seemed he didn’t know how to respond; then, he said, “Oh, don’t be so gloomy. And give me some credit, why don’t you?”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Credit for what?”

“For being the best pilot in the galaxy, of course!” he cried.

“Yeah, well the best pilot in the galaxy better haul his debonair ass outta here before that doctor comes back.”

“Oh, shut up, you love me,” Poe snapped. “See you later, snowdoll. Sleep tight.”

“See you.”

He tipped an imaginary hat, then vanished behind the bed curtain. Almost unconsciously, Finn held his jacket a little closer.

He didn’t think he’d be doing much deep sleeping, but he did, eventually, and he saw things. He couldn’t remember much of it—colored lights, distorted old memories, something gold—but when he awoke, something was different. He had a new understanding of what Poe had said before, and a strong feeling that he was right, like some unseen force was pushing him towards a realization. Maybe Rey had felt it too, when she left to search for Skywalker. Maybe Kylo Ren had felt it, when he took the last step off the burning bridge that connected him to his past. Whatever it was, it was awake now.

And it had only just begun.


End file.
